


Symphony

by theinvalidedsoldier



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Heavy Angst, Major Character Injury, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Violence, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug, argument
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 07:32:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15552738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theinvalidedsoldier/pseuds/theinvalidedsoldier
Summary: For as long as Wade could remember, his mind had fought him. And for as long as he could remember, he had fought it back. But there was always those occasional moments where it seemed to get the best of him.





	Symphony

**Author's Note:**

> If any of my fics are anything to go by, I just really love angst.
> 
> This is usually a lot more Wade-centric than I usually do, but god knows he deserves the fic exposure.

  It was said that any person idiotic enough to provoke the infamous Deadpool would cease to exist from the very second they make said feeble mistake. Instead of the chirpy, conversational tone Wade would typically brandish, his thinly-veiled enthusiasm would completely stop itself short. He would opt for a stone-cold silence or an unnatural neutrality that spoke of the true immensity of his rage, one that left no room for misinterpretations. If you've angered Wade Wilson to the extent that he's completely quiet, you're just as good as dead. 

  The rampant killing spree a _happy_  Deadpool could go on was a sight for sore eyes in itself, so god forbid you legitimately infuriate him. There was bound to be a massacre of misery at every corner you turned. A plethora of discarded limbs, torn mercilessly from their owners, some who were unfortunately still alive.

  A merciful killing on Wade's behalf was quick and easy, if he prolonged your death in any way it's because he fully intended for you to die slowly.

  Wade would rarely allow himself to get riled up to such an extent as it was inevitably bad for business; even the hasty crime lords that regularly hired him for his mercenary services would stop investing in him if they knew the _true_ depths of his volatility. 

  For as long as Wade could remember, his mind had fought him. And for as long as he could remember, he had fought it back. But there was always those occasional moments where it seemed to get the best of him. Times where he just didn't have it in him to differentiate between what was real and what was fake.

  There were times when he couldn't correctly decipher between those who were out to get him and those who genuinely wanted what was best for him - though that latter list of people was mockingly small. It was the times when those stupid  _fucking_ boxes became too much, yet putting a bullet in his own brain just wasn't quite enough. It wasn't enough to satiate the all-too twisted part of Wade's mind that demanded destruction and death for all of the shit he had gone through. All of the shit he had to go through alone and powerless.

  Consequentially, his mind had caused Wade to make many mistakes over the course of his life.

  The mistakes becoming increasingly more devastating as his damaged conscience rose to a symphony, a screeching chorus of abuse. Some mistakes he could live with - though he didn't have much of a choice either way - but some were unforgivable, not many, but some.

  And as Wade stared down at the limp body of Peter Parker, Spider-Man, katanas unsheathed and his hands dripping wet with  _something_ scarlet, he came to realise that the pinnacle of his mistakes was this moment.

-

  It was a regular day, like no other really. 

  He had the odd mercenary job, it was one that didn't pay all that much. It was a measly offer, from a poor family, who desperately sought vengeance for the death of their toddler. The poor child had been murdered and thrown in a dumpster, only a walking distance from their quaint family home on the outskirts of New York's suburbs.

  It had been the first mercenary job he had taken for almost a year and a half, which was a record Wade had taken in stride with a proud puff of his chest. But the offer to kill a child-murderer was one that even his newly moral, virtuous ass couldn't refuse.

  Wade wasn't a kind person, yet his actions to those who hurt kids tended to prove otherwise. In his mind, there was no person more despicable than someone who would hurt a defenceless child, there was truly nothing more unforgivable. Something akin to guilt was coursing through his veins, a familiar feeling of shame churning his stomach for breaking his anti-unaliving spree.

  The job was over relatively quickly, but the excitement for the coming evening dimmed the shame however temporarily and had the leather-clad ex-merc buzzing. It was at ten p.m. approximately when Wade would meet up every night with his favourite hero - outranking even Captain America - and crush numero uno almighty, Spider-Man.

  The patrols would all go down relatively the same way, Wade would crack countless jokes about the arachnid's firm derrière, Spidey would feign exasperation while hiding an amused grin behind his non-expressive mask, and the two would eat tacos on top of whatever convenient building-top.

  However, this time around when Deadpool landed on some irregular building to greet his spiderling friend, he was greeted with a glare he could decipher even through the expressionless lenses. Peter turned his head away sharply, not bothering to greet the confused elder behind him. 

  "Hey yo Petey, whattup with the not so casual diss," Wade chirped conversationally, though a trail of sudden uncertainty lingered in his typically nonchalant tone. "You good?"

  The smaller hero scoffed, swinging his legs from the spot he occupied at the ledge of the building. "I thought we discussed calling me by my civilian name when on patrol,  _Deadpool._ " Peter's tone was unusually clipped and biting, accusatory. Wade widened his stance and spread out his arms in mock surrender, although the action went unseen.

  "Woah there bud, what's with the formalities?" Now Wade really was nervous, a weak chuckle erupting from him. "Seriously Spidey, what's up? What have I done to deserve the horrors of my full name?" He took a seat on the ledge beside the fuming hero, who immediately went visibly stiff at his presence. A reaction that Deadpool catalogued immediately, _that_ was new.

   _{Ooh, lookit, lookit. He doesn't want your busty lookin' self anywhere near him.}_ Yellow remarked, the cruel boxes starting up like a sedentary engine revving back to use.

  **[You've really gone and done it now. Whatever it is you've done.]** Of course White had to make an appearance, too. 

  "You know exactly what you did," Peter said, voice an octave lower. Wade's eyebrows bunched, heart immediately plummeting straight down to his fucking balls and back. His cluelessness was not a gimmick, he genuinely was confused as to why his friend was upset with him, but that didn't alleviate the sheer shame turning his entire body red hot at being a source of disappointment to his righteous hero bestie.

    _{Ohh shit.}_

  "For real, man, I have no fucking clue what you mean." Wade fiddled with his gloved fingers in disarray, his sky-rocketing anxiety levels practically pungent in the air. "I even helped some old hooker chick from getting harassed on the way here, I've used up my capacity for greatness for today, yet here I am! So that's a point for celebration." Both of them were aware that Wade was rambling at that point, but it wasn't commented on. Surprisingly.

  Peter sucked in a breath, inhaling out through his nose sharply. He used his arms as leverage to hoist himself up from the ledge, turning his body around to leave the rambling Deadpool all on his lonesome. "I wish I could say that you were unbelievable, or that I didn't see this coming even remotely, but even that wouldn't even be true."

  Spider-Man's lithe figure took to standing behind the increasingly oblivious Deadpool with his spandex-clad hands on his hips, something that would've had the other buckling with unadulterated laughter if it weren't for the fact that he was fighting the impulse to literally throw himself off the building head first. Many a time before, Wade had quite literally  _hurled_ himself in front of moving vehicles or dove through windows to a two hundred feet drop to avoid awkward situations, the current situation being no exception. This one he opted to sit through, however, for both of their sakes.

  "I _trusted_ you, Wade. I told Tony  _fucking_ Stark and all of the other Avengers that you were turning over a new leaf, becoming a new person. I told them you were becoming a hero, guess I was wrong about that too." The profanity sounded foreign rolling off Peter's tongue, which only made the tangent that bit more heated, that bit more hurtful. Wade immediately felt his blood starting to boil.

_{I mean, he's really not wrong you know, you disappoint fucking everyone. It was bound to happen sooner or later, what's it to ya now?}_

**[I just want to know what he's so fucking pissy about, we've been nothing short of golden for the past-]**

Wade spun around to face Peter, who had torn off his mask in an instant and strewn it to the side in his fury fueled fit.  _Ha, the real life poetry._ His typically warm eyes were blown wide and rabid, his cheeks turning noticeably pink - even visible in the dark - in anger.

  At any other given moment, an unmasked Peter was a sight to behold, and Wade wouldn’t have dared to devalue or lowball that. But it most certainly wasn’t the time to bask in the glory that was the smaller’s youthful face. It wouldn’t have done him any favours.

   _{Nice one, you fucking dipshit. He knows.}_

"Okay hold on just a diddly-squat of a fucking second, calm the fuck down before you blow a spider fuse and start spewing webs everywhere or some shit," Wade rambled, grappling at his momentary up-hand in the conversation, his outburst having startled Peter into silence. "What in the shit are you talking about, Spidey?"

**[Playing dumb is fooling no one, he's got you by the balls Wadey-poo.]**

Peter outstretched a threatening finger, one shaking with fury, telepathically prodding Deadpool in the chest. "I get a call from Tony an hour ago, telling me that he's dealing with damage control from some terrified elderlies who claimed that they saw Spider-Man decapitating some dude in broad daylight, smack bang in front of twenty houses." With a flash of blue and red, Peter was in front of Wade, eyes to mid-chest. 

  "Considering the fact that I was in the middle of a Physics test at two o'clock today, I find it highly fucking unlikely that I would not only  _kill_ another human being but that I've somehow managed to crack the science and applied maths behind split teleportation," Peter spat, said shaking finger taking to actually poking at the older man's chest. "That's when I thought of who else could possibly be mistaken as me in that context, especially by a half-blind old lady who barely knows what's going on. And that's when I realised that it was  _you._ "

  Wade bristled as the fact was brought to light, immediately standing ramrod straight in a defensive stance. His reaction alone was enough to give Peter the confirmation that he needed.

  "You're killing again. You're back doing mercenary work." All Wade could muster up was a nod, even the boxes had gone quiet.

  "Listen Pete -" He was cut off instantly by the shorter man directly in front of him.

  "That's Spider-Man to you now, Deadpool." Peter backed away to further emphasise his point. "One rule,  _one._ That's all I had, you stop killing people, and we can be friends. Now that you've gone and royally fucked not only  _that_ up, but my reputation - as many sources claim that it was actually me murdering some poor man - I'm just calling this whole fucking thing off."

   _{You went against him, you broke your promise, and now he's disgusted by you.}_

**[He's leaving.]**

"He was a rapist, he murdered a fucking baby Peter, what the fuck else was I supposed to do? It didn't even pay much, the family was just desperate," Wade said, inching forward, growing more panicked with each step. Peter shook his head, indicating clearly that he wasn't listening. That he didn't care. 

   _{He needs to get off his moral fucking high horse for just a second, he's talking out of his tight little ass if he says he wouldn't have done the exact same thing.}_

   **[He actually wouldn't have, he's _Spider-Man._ The Amazing Spider-Man would  _never._ ]**

"I don't care Wade, you and I both know that it doesn't matter. You don't decide who gets to live and who gets to die, you can't just play God or some shit. You could've come to  _us,_ and we would've let the justice system take care of him." Wade's eyebrows bunched, a tight feeling forming in his chest, constricting him. 

  " _Us?_ " Wade mocked, his tone growing iniquitous. "What, you mean you and those dense fucking Avengers? Those pompous angel dick-lickers wouldn't do shit. They don't care for the little guy,  _Spider-Man,_ and clearly neither do you."

   _{Yeah, that's true, actually.}_

"Oh, definitely not. My being New York's  _friendly neighbourhood_ Spider-Man clearly has no correlation with wanting to help every civilian I can," Peter scoffed, barking out a derisive laugh that ground on Wade's nerves like sandpaper. 

  "Right, because the limp dick-biscuit that murdered a toddler is an innocent civilian. No harm, no foul right?" Now he was getting mad, and that was good for neither of them. 

  The duo had had their fair share of arguments over the near two years that they had known each other, compromise after compromise being laid down to protect themselves against any potential arguments, arguments like the one they were having at that moment. The two had quick-tempers and volatile sparks, with both sharp tongues and sharp wit to accompany their scathing insults. They both knew that a proper argument between the two of them was destined to end catastrophically, so it was something they adamantly avoided, but this one had been in the works for a while.

  "You know that's not what I meant, don't fucking twist my words Wade," Peter snarled, hands jabbing out angrily. It was Wade's turn to scoff a laugh, this one much deeper, and much more sinister than its predecessor's attempt. "I ain't twisting shit Spidey, I just did what you so-called heroes don't have the super balls to do, and that's rid the world of the fuckers who actually _deserve_ it."

  **[He's looking at you funny, have we seen that look before?]**

  Peter's mouth was agape ever so slightly, his eyes glazing over with a concoction of rage and- and- what is _that - fear?_ He was a deer in the headlights of Wade's sheer instability, something he hadn't seen so blatantly before that moment. 

  "You're insane, you're absolutely fucking insane."

  _{There it is, there it fucking is. The judgement to pass all judgements, we're insane. Wow. Who the fuck does he think he is?}_

  **[He's getting ready to jump off the roof, don't let him leave. He doesn't get to leave us like this.]**

  Wade grabbed at the younger's arm, his large hand encompassing the muscle ridden bicep. "Oh, and what? That's news to you, is it?"  Peter yanked his forearm out of Wade's grip, a snarl on his face.

  "You think this is the worst I can get? Ohoho, you ain't seen nothin' yet darling." Peter bit his lip, biting back what would've been a very risky retort. He looked Wade up and down, seeming to be dealing with some internal conflict, before coming to a decision. He shook his head, chin up high. How Wade wanted to wrap his fingers around it and wrench it down to the ground.

  "No. We're not doing this," Peter resolved, his tone holding finality. As if he had a say.

  "Oh, are we not? You're awfully quick to pass judgement on someone and skip the reciprocation, dearest Pete. What's it like looking down on us unstable cooks from that high horse you're humping?"

   _{Knock him down a few notches, he's not allowed to just fuck off and leave us in the spotlight.]_

"Fuck you, Wade. Just because I  _have_ a conscience doesn't mean you get to shit on me for it." Peter got onto his toes to get into his face. "You broke our promise, end of the line, that's it. You _promised_ me."

  A burly palm pressed against a heaving chest, and before his Spidey-sense could even hope to warn him, Peter was sent flying to the other end of the building. Time seemed to come to a halt momentarily, both heroes on respective ends of the roof freezing as the impact of Peter's body clanged against the hollow metal door at the rooftop entrance.

  "So, what? I off a murderer with an affinity for killing harmless children, and that's just it for us? You suddenly get the right to label me as a fucking crazy psychopath solely because I did the right thing in ridding the world of that scum." Wade began to stalk towards the composing body, "What, you think that because you  _occasionally_ work with the Avengers on low maintenance shit that you can just fuck me over like this? Nu-uh. Don't think so." Peter got to his feet, clutching his shoulder with a hiss.

  "As far as I'm concerned, the world is a better place without people like that roaming around. Yet you seem to have some huge fucking issue with it because you think that- that I -" Peter's righteous tenor interjected, yet again.

   _{If he interrupts us one more fucking time, you shut him up and make him listen.}_

**[Shut him up. Make him listen.]**

"That you like it? Because you and I both know that you do like it, Wade. Yes, it was a small problem before, but now everyone else has to deal with the repercussions of your trigger-happy fingers just because you couldn't keep your shit together long enough to think of anyone else but yourself." It was a challenge presented to Wade, one that he happily rose to.

  "You better be fucking careful there, Spidey. Because you're spouting shit that you know fuck all about," Wade drawled, tone dangerous. 

  "You think that I don't know what I'm talking about? That you're unreliable, dishonest, ruthless and completely fucking selfish?" Speckles of spit flew from Peter's mouth as his voice gradually increased in volume with each brutal verbal jab. 

   _{Selfish? Unreliable? Does he not know about the shit that we've done to save his fucking ass countless times?}_

**[He hates you, you've done it.]**

"Shut up," Wade snapped, but neither of them was exactly sure who he was talking to. Peter kept going, but none of it seemed to resonate in Wade's ears, as a ringing seemed to replace the lilt of hatred, disgust, pure  _revulsion_ in Spidey's tone.

   _{He's still talking, did I not say something about him talking? He's not going to stop, it's because you repulse him, and he's letting you know.}_

**[Take out your gun, what you shoot is up to you.]**

"Stop." The second warning was more clipped, more panicked, and much louder. The buzzing, the incessant ringing ceaselessly sounded inside and outside his head.  _Crescendo._ The symphony, the chorus, the entire full fucking orchestra was clanging and clashing and screeching in harmonious havoc.

   _{You deserve this, it was a long fucking time coming too. You just gave him the reason he had needed to leave. But can he really leave you now?}_

**[You never deserved him, that's a fact, you know it and now he knows it too.]**

Peter was still talking, Wade could faintly make out the odd word here and there, mostly from the mouth movements. The atmosphere was heating, Wade was pretty sure that he was melting, overheating, dying, fainting. 

   _{You are seriously one weak, selfish motherfucker. Waste of fucking space, waste of life, waste of air. What the fuck are you doing? What the fuck have you done?}_

_**[Come on, do it. Do it. Do what we fucking tell you to do for once, you know you want to. Do it, come on. You have to, it's the only way.]**_

"Shut the fuck up!" 

  Wade didn't even register unsheathing his katanas, he didn't register his name being called out with a worrying amount of terror, he didn't even register his stride forward into an offensive stance and plunging forward. He registered nothing until everything was  _silent._ The boxes had stopped abruptly, yellow and white's chanting had diminished within the space of a millisecond. The ringing and the buzzing was starting its rapid come-down when the realisation had hit him. Wait.

  Wade looked down with a strangled gasp of air, completely frozen at the sight before him.

  He had renamed one of his katanas on one chilly December night with Peter. They were both giggly and unceremonious as they flopped down onto a frost-bitten park bench, warm bellies filled with Chinese food. They had known each other nearly exactly a year, and Wade didn't know of any better honour to bestow on the arachnid than christening one of his deadly swords. Bea Arthur was non-negotiable, there was no way that was being changed. Not a hope, but he left the name of the katana used by his dominant hand up for grabs for his spiderling friend. Peter had decided on Boba because his nerdiness transcended even out of his personal life.

  Boba, who had only been recently sharpened that very morning for the mercenary job that had caused the whole ordeal, was buried almost completely in Peter's abdomen. 

  Wade had plunged that very sword in roughly the exact same place into what must've been hundreds of people, it was the type of kill that was done in a flurry of movement, where Wade would typically scurry off to someone else without bothering to assess the damage. It was the type of wound there was no coming back from, as it almost always ended up puncturing anything from the stomach to the spleen, or the liver. All of which are hard to live without, if the blood loss wasn't enough to take the initiative. But this wasn't some nameless thug. Boba had infiltrated the red and blue spandex of his best friend, impaling the smaller man completely on the spike, the tip of the sword sticking out from his back.

  Eye contact. The most excruciating two words in the English language. The pair made eye contact.

  Peter's eyes were puffy and red, rivulets of tears streaming down his face in disarray. Pure shock was written plainly on his face, nothing more distinguishable than the sheer surprise, which was starting to die down into the common grimace of agonising pain. Chapped lips let out a weak cough, which caused a splatter of blood to erupt from his mouth and dribble down his chin.

  Time was non-existent, the epitome of a construct as Wade grappled for what to do. His head had turned off completely, but hadn't that been what he had wanted in the first place? That, and  _silence_? He now had both. And knew what to do with neither.

  "Wade," Peter choked, a faint wheeze rambling in his chest to be set free. He stared into the cold lenses of the Deadpool mask, which seemed to be betraying no emotion. He then took to staring down at the offending sword that was burrowed through his abdominal aorta. 

  "Peter." Wade pulled the sword in a swift movement, dropping both swords on the ground to catch the tumbling Peter, who was hurdling through the air to the ground. He guided them both down to the cold tarmac gently, Peter's body fitting in his lap too well. Perfectly.

  He tore off his mask briskly, tears cascading down his scarred face as he hyperventilated on the ground. His legs were turning numb, as were his hands, as he attempted to apply pressure to the spurting wound. 

  "Peter, Peter. I'm sorry, oh fuck, shit- baby boy I'm so fucking sorry. I'm so sorry I -" The only thing that interrupted Wade now was his own sobs, as he cradled the figure in his lap. He kept talking, he kept going, kept apologising over and over. He had lost count at how many times he had said the word,  _'sorry'_ at thirty-seven. 

  Wade's eyes found Peter's again, this time he found that the light was starting to dim from the usually bright and doe hazel that he always had envied. Blood splattered lips opened to cough again.

  "I'm sorry," Peter whispered. "I didn't mean it, I didn't mean what I said." He laughed despite himself, despite the situation he was in. Trust Peter to attempt to brighten such a situation as this. The chuckle started another bout of weak coughs, which then trailed off into a non-commital wheeze. "I was just mad."

  "Peter, fuck. Jesus, no. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Fuck, fuck, fuck." When looked into the doe eyes once more, they were unblinking. Lips open, but not moving, chest still and steady. "I love you, please. Please, please, please no. You can't leave, you can't just fucking leave me."

  For as long as Wade could remember, his mind had fought him. And for as long as he could remember, he had fought it back. The punishment for doing so was in his arms, as lifeless and as dead as Wade felt inside.


End file.
